Page 2 of Rare Blend
Brandon clears his throat. “Well, let’s go ahead and get started.”
His hands clasp together over the imposing mahogany desk. The tension in the room is so thick it feels hard to breathe.
“As you know, it’s been a difficult year. The tech industry as a whole has seen a downturn, and it’s resulted in us having to make some difficult decisions…”
He drones on for a while longer, speaking his corporate talk to me as if I don’t know how rehearsed this script is.
“Get to the point. I think we all know where this conversation is going,” I snipe.
Sighing deeply, he finally looks me in the eyes. I’m not prepared for how physically painful it is to have those piercing eyes I used to adore look at me with such indifference.
“Unfortunately, we’re going to have to let you go.”
I knew it.
I knew it was coming. All signs pointed to this conclusion. But hearing it—having it spoken into existence—nothing could have prepared me. Would I be sitting in this seat if we were still together? Would someone else be getting this speech? Of course, it makes sense to get rid of me, the ex-girlfriend who’s a constant reminder of his indiscretions.
When we started dating, Brandon made sure we filled out the appropriate paperwork with the company. He didn’t want to hide us—me. He was proud to call me his girlfriend, and while we didn’t advertise it, everyone was very aware we were together. He could have easily kept us a secret since it wasn’t thebest look for our jobs, but his insistence at being out in the open made me feel special. How pathetic is that? The bar is so low, it’s in hell.
When news spread that we had broken up because he cheated on me with Quinn, sides were taken, lines were drawn. Team Marisa significantly outnumbered Team Brandon. He can’t have that—I’m the thorn in his side that keeps poking deeper the longer I stay here.
“Is this because of what happened between us?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger—his telltale sign of annoyance. “I knew you would make this personal,” he hisses under his breath.
Aaron leans forward. “Miss Castilla, I assure you this is all on the up and up. You are simply the first in a significant layoff that will be occurring throughout the day. In fact, it was Brandon’s suggestion that you be the first, because he understands how delicate the situation between you two is.”
My focus remains on Brandon. “How generous of you. Really thank you. I forgot how sweet you could be. And sending Quinn, of all people, to come get me. You’re disgusting.”
“Risy, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Oh God, that nickname. I could gag. How hard is it to say Marisa?
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”
“Fine.Marisa. Can you be professional about this?”
I stand from my seat. “You’ve got some nerve thinking you can fire me to make your life easier.”
He rises, leaning across the desk, his face too close. I always forget how intimidating his height is until it’s up against my short stature.
“You’re being laid off, not fired. And I’m sorry to inform you that the world does not revolve around you and your feelings. This has nothing to do with us. I don’t think about you, andI sure as shit don’t care about you anymore. This is business. Nothing more.”
My head jolts back like I’ve been slapped. His words sting to the point I can feel the swell of a wave threatening to wash over me.I will not cry. I will not cry.
Aaron stands and puts his hand on Brandon’s shoulder, steering him back. “Okay, folks, it’s getting a little heated in here. Let’s keep it civil.”
Brandon shakes out his shoulders and straightens his already straight tie. His hand glides over his perfectly coifed hair, ensuring not a single piece is out of place. “There’s no sense in arguing about this. You’re being let go, and that’s that.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I blink rapidly in an attempt to hold them back before they fall out of me like an uncontrollable stream. They’re from anger, not sadness, but I start to well up all the same.
Brandon’s jaw tightens, a hint of guilt surfacing on his face before he quickly masks it with apathy once again. He never could handle my crying.
“If you leave now, you can still walk out of here with your dignity,” he whispers, as if what he’s saying is supposed to bring me some sort of comfort.
My dignity?Myfucking dignity? He’s the one who should be worried about his dignity. Cheating asshole.
“Fine,” I say, my voice a touch too high and wobbly as I try to remain collected. I walk to the door, ready to face the shame of my coworkers’ awkward glances. Through all the emotional fury burning inside of me, something finally snaps, pouring kerosene over my growing fire. Enough with being the bigger person; it’s clearly gotten me nowhere.
